The Dunes

Where am I living, sleeping now, with wall-to-wall speckled gray carpeting?

Wherever you are, I hope that when you lay upon the floor
you don't feel so alone, with no concept at all of home.

That when you close your eyes there is a definitive space between the
clouds
that is your base; foundation; floor.

There is no bitter emptiness leaving you to plummet to distant sands
grasping to catch yourself with wisps sliding through your hands.

Through my spirit what I see is as we once dared to perceive. The door is fluid--
and opens up despite the building, ever golden granules preventing it's progress.

Clouds sneak through although I've never asking for any less;
dreams never die then, but drift beyond the door.

I'm pulled as I lay here, on the floor.